


In Sickness and in Health

by lornrocks



Category: Fandom: Heroes
Genre: M/M, Sequel, Sickfic, i'maromanticatheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornrocks/pseuds/lornrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to my fic, <a href="http://lornrocks.livejournal.com/38014.html">Five Times Sylar Almost Told Peter He Loved Him, and One Time He Did</a>. Just a drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

For a few days after Sylar's confession, Peter spends most of the days and the nights asleep in bed, trying to shake the virus. Sylar helps with what he can, bringing Peter new wet cloths for his forehead, extra blankets, Gatorade, whatever.

On the fourth day, Peter slides out of bed carefully and slowly. He makes his way to the kitchen, where he stands in the doorway. His legs are still a little weak, so he leans against the doorframe.

"Hey."

Sylar, sitting at the table, looks up surprised.

"Hey, you. How do you feel?"

Peter shrugs and picks at some chipped paint on the doorframe.

"Much better. I think...I'm going to take a shower."

The seated man nods and tries to look nonchalant as the other man disappears into the other room. A minute or so later, he can hear the water kick on.

He frowns as he looks down at the crossword puzzle he was pretending to be doing.

"I wonder if Peter remembers what I said..." he muses aloud, then taps his pen against the table once for good measure.

A few more minutes go by, with Sylar not really sure what to do or say, and the water turns off. He silently counts the time in his head, ticking off exactly three minutes before getting up and heading in the direction of the bathroom. Right when he gets to it, the door opens, and steam starts pouring out.

Peter is standing by the sink, wearing just navy blue plaid pajama bottoms. He has a towel slung across his shoulders, which he's using to tousle his hair dry. When he catches the other man staring at him in the mirror, he turns around, leaving the towel to continue to hang around his neck.

"I just wanted to say thank you," he begins, "For taking care of me."

Sylar waves a hand dismissively, as if to say, "It was nothing."

Peter's eyes dart up to the side and then back to Sylar, as he shifts his weight. He's trying to say something, Sylar decides, but he's not sure what, exactly.

Finally, Peter takes a step forward.

"Did you really tell me you loved me, or did I dream it?" he asks, and for a split second, Sylar is completely dumbfounded.

After several tense seconds, he nods.

"I did. I meant it."

Peter takes another step forward.

"I meant what I said, too."

He looks up at the other man and they look at each other for several seconds before ecstatic smiles start to spread across their faces. Peter reaches up, takes a hold of each end of the towel, and pulls it up and over, until it's across the taller man's shoulders. Tugging him forward, Peter pulls Sylar close and presses his lips to Sylar's.

The kiss is earnest and careful, as Sylar takes the time to memorize every detail of Peter's lips so he'll never, ever forget.

When they finally pull apart, Peter lets the towel drop to the floor. Sylar briefly thinks about asking Peter to hang it up, but his thought processes are interrupted by a lean, wet chest being pressed against his own.

 _Oh,_ Sylar thinks, _I'll get it later._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Super old fic from LJ.


End file.
